Sam Winchester (and occasionally others) x Reader

Bloodied Hands (Sam) (Pt. 2)

You had been sitting in the chair for about 6 hours, your butt had fallen asleep 4 hours ago. Your movement was restricted as well as your contact. Sam and Dean rarely came in, usually only to check on your status. They were nice enough about it though, always asking if you needed anything (besides being let out of course).

You were about to fall asleep when you hear the familiar grinding of the false shelves blocking the dungeon. You force your eyes open to see Sam with a tray of food in his hands.

"Hey. I figured you might be hungry." He smiled awkwardly as he set the tray on the table. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, sore, lonely. You know, the usual when your locked up." You try to put on a sarcastic smile, but realize your too tired to do even that.

You see Sam's gaze faulter for a moment before he quickly grabs the tray and sets it in your lap. "I'm gonna unhook your arms. Can you promise me you won't try to run?"

You huff. "Where would I go? I know you and Dean could easily chase me down, you guys are like freaking track stars."

Sam smiles. "Actually I was always the scrawny nerd." He chuckles as he unhooks the cuffs, you eyes wide.

"You? The bookworm? I mean I can see you being a bookworm, but the words: quiet, scrawny, and wallflower are not how I would describe you."

You thankfully rub your wrists as he sits on the edge of the table to watch you. "Well, alot has changed." His mind briefly wanders back to his time in school.

"I mean, you told me about Stanford, which is a hard enough school to get into anyway." You chomp down on the sandwich, thankful to put something in your stomach.

"I was actually there on a full ride." You watch him, waiting for him to start laughing, but he is serious.

"You got into Stanford on a full ride? Like, full paid pass into college?"

He nodded and you could see a small sense of pride in his face. "Yea. I was in pre law. I actually had an interview for law school. But I never got to it..." His voice trailed off in sadness.

"Right. Sorry." You add quickly as you sip some water. "Hey Sam, in all of my 6 hours locked down here, I had a thought."

"What was that?" He asked, though you could see the concern in his face.

"I only crave blood maybe once or twice a month. I just... Fed... The other day. Doesn't locking me up for a month seem kind of redundant if I'm not crazy for it?" You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

"Good point. However, how will Dean or I know when you start to want it again? We can't take you out on a hunt if we know you could sneak out." He shifted his weight, the memory of him in this situation coming back.

"I'll tell you. I don't even need to leave the bunker, just please don't chain me to the chair like an animal." You gave him your rendition of the puppy eyes. Sure they may not be as effective as his, but you knew sometimes they could be the difference between yes or no.

He took a deep breath, his arms crossing over his chest. "You swear? The tiniest thought of wanting some-"

"You will know before I do." You quickly blurt out.

"Fine. Finish your dinner first, you need to eat." He sighs as a large smile takes over your face.

You quickly set the plate aside and stand, walking to him and pulling him into a hug. "Thank you so much. I am so sorry about all of this Sam."

He holds you close, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have just locked you up."

You pull away and look up at him. "That's what they did to you, wasn't it." You see his jaw clench, the tell tale sign you were right. "Sam, do you want to tell me what happened?"

He sighs and lowers his head as if dreading the conversation. "Maybe later?"

You nod and smile as you tilt his chin to look at you. "Of course. Here, how about I take the food back to our room and finish it. You come to bed when you are ready."

He nodded and kissed you quickly before releasing you. His eyes trailed you as you grabbed the tray and walked out the door. He didn't follow you, he knew he didn't need to. He trusted you enough to walk to your own room.

When you got there you did exactly what you said you would. You sat on the bed and finished your food, the tiredness you felt before coming back. You, however, had one last thing to do before you went to bed.

Setting the tray aside, you stand and grab your duffle, setting it on the bed and opening it. You have to dig a bit, but soon you pull out a silver flask with your initials on it. Your father gave you this flask not long before he died, and you had sullied the memory in the worst way possible.

So you took the flask to the bathroom and stood above the toilet. With a deep breath you unscrew the lid, the pungent scent instantly filling your nose. You wanted so badly to take a swig, one last horah, but you knew better. You were doing this not only for you, but for Sam. You had to stay strong, you couldn't bare to have him look at you like that again. Like you were so worthless and pitiable.

"Come on (y/n). You can do this." You whisper to yourself with hope a pep-talk will help you.

Finally, you tip the bottle, all of the thick liquid pouring out. You watch with a sad fascination as the blood mixed with the water, slowly clouding out and dying the water a sick red. The last few drops fell from the mouth of the bottle, signalling the end of the supply.

You flip the bottle back over and watch the water for a few more seconds before reaching over and flushing the toilet. The blood spun around and sank down, finally away from you.

This was the first step in recovery. You had gotten rid of the offending liquid you had in access, what you didn't know was that someone else was there. Sam had entered just as you whispered your words of encouragement, stepping back to watch as you rid yourself of the last of your stores. He couldn't help but smile, knowing you understood the importance of this as much as he did. He was proud.

He backed out, not wanting to be seen by you, but he couldn't deny how badly he wanted to rush back in and tell you how proud he was of you and how much what he just witnessed meant to him. However, he knew better. He knew you needed time on your own to accept how big of a victory this was in your own right.

You come out of the bathroom and look around, you could have sworn you heard something. Thinking its just the exhaustion you ignore it and go back to your room. You quickly change and crawl under the covers, so ready for this day to be over.

Just as you feel the pull off sleep you hear the door quickly open and close. "Sam?" You mumbled quietly, a small grunt in affermation coming from him. With that you relax again and fall asleep before he can even hit the covers.

He slides in next to you and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he breaths in your scent. He waits a bit before whispering quietly.

"I'm so proud of you."